


Imagine

by SocialDisease609



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Soulmates, soulmates colors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-13 12:19:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9123355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocialDisease609/pseuds/SocialDisease609
Summary: 2 PART CLEXA SOULMATES AU: ColorsCommander Lexa is out for blood on the battlefield. Wanheda's blood.A different timeline- In which the Skaikru are still a population that has crash-landed from space, but have been on Earth for hundreds of years after “The 100”’s original timeline. The earth is still post-apocalyptic, but instead of making the world how it used to be before the nuclear apocalypse, the Arkadians themselves are almost Grounder-like in nature.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Skin-on-skin contact from your soulmate grants the ability to see the world in color.

Wanheda. The name granted to the infamous Skaikru warrior. Her name would survive this battle, whether she herself did or not. The legends of her ferocity in battle were immortal and feared. It was often said that once Wanheda was brought to a battle, the opposing force would lose all morale- death in great numbers was imminent, all done by her own hand. She was blessed with the gift of death by the universe, a fearsome destiny.

            Heda Lexa had seen her once, outside of the glimpses of spy reconnaissance. Two years ago, there was an attempted peace-treaty between all the clans, including the Skaikru, but it was all in vain, as the Skaikru leaders were hard to budge. Wanheda, clothed in armor and a dark hued sash, extended her right hand in greetings to the Commander that day- “Clarke, Clarke Griffin,” she introduced pleasantly. But before Lexa could reciprocate, Wanheda was ordered to disengage by Councilor Jaha. The legendary warrior seemed nothing more than a young girl. While young herself, Lexa had imagined an older woman, of course, probably in her late thirties, early forties, but did not expect a girl with the gracefulness of youth still playing on her skin. Her hair was a pale hue, long and seemingly thick, and her eyes, grey like everyone else in Lexa’s world, seemed incredibly light. Clarke had a charming smile, but Lexa knew not to fall for pleasure. Everyone had heard of great leaders falling for seduction from the opposing side. It was one of the most dishonorable, yet incredible common, forms of losing battles, wars, and nations.     Lexa’s reign as Commander was overwhelmed with battles, her victories and losses inscribed on pottery and woven into tapestries. The Commander would often find the depiction of Wanheda in the art that contained her failures. She HATED Wanheda. That sly and cunning bitch, always with a trick up her sleeve to give her the upper hand. If the war could be ended in hand-to-hand combat, Lexa would surely win. This thought consumed her, and drove her to this day.

            As her and her warriors had marched to the agreed-upon stretch of land to be the battlefield, Lexa had told them all: “If you find Wanheda, subdue her somehow and bring her to me. I will kill her myself, and end this war. Without Wanheda, Skaikru will crumble.” Some had asked her about the fears of martyrdom, to which the Commander simply replied, “Wanheda will not be a martyr to her people. My nemesis is a tool to her people, you act like you’re not aware of how selfish they are. She fights their dirtiest battles because they don’t want to themselves. Once I kill her in front of them, no one will rebel; they will simply blame her corpse for not having fought hard enough. I almost pity the warrior.”

            The sky was grey, the rivers were grey, the grass, boulders, blood- all grey, black, and silver. The spring, the summer, the winter- all dead shades of color. The title of Commander came with a life of solitude, but nowhere in the written codes did it say the Commander could not take on lovers. She would engage in the pleasures of woman for a night or so, every now and then scattered among the years. Her physical needs required tending to, so taking someone to bed was never questioned, as long as it wasn’t the same woman appearing too much. Emotional needs, on the other hand, were constantly neglected. Lexa wouldn’t be human if she said she didn’t long for the chance to see the world in color- to find her soulmate and experience true love.

            “They’re here, Heda,” said Octavia The Defector, walking up to stand beside the Commander on top of the hill overlooking the fields beneath them, their battalions among battalions behind them.

            “Octavia,” Lexa spoke calmly, still surveying the land. “Pledge your allegiance to me.”

            “I have already, Heda,” the Skaikru-born girl claimed.

            “Again,” Lexa demanded. “Today, you kill your brother, by your hand or not. Today we fight until the Skaikru are gone, or surrender. There _will be_ no other end to this battle.”

            There was a second of hesitation, before Octavia responded. “I pledge my allegiance to you, Heda Lexa, til the end of my days. I have already mourned the loss of my brother.”

            “Good,” Lexa accepted, as she saw the Skaikru forces emerge from the fog below. “Ready the warriors.”

            “Yes, Heda.”

            Lexa could hear the growls of her soldiers behind her, rumbling their earth with the cries of starved bloodlust. They were charging beside her within seconds, the ground feeling like it was going to collapse with the force of two stampedes rushing towards each other. Bodies crashed into one another, the weak falling to the ground, only to be trampled to death, the strong standing firm- immovable. The Skaikru had run out of firearms and recyclable ammunition a century ago, and the battlefield was finally even. Fist against fist, sword against shield. The sounds of the battlefield, the groans of soldiers and the clashing of metal, echoed in Lexa’s ears like the sea trapped in a shell.

            Many died by her hand before they could raise their sword-arm. Skaikru tasted the wrath and pain of the Grounders in full. The invaders who came from the sky generations ago would soon finally leave the Earth. And then the bruised and beaten forces of the Skaikru roared, reinvigorated by a presence. Lexa knew who.

            “Wanheda! Wanheda! Wanheda!” chanted the Skaikru, drunk on morale. The rear of the Skaikru lines began to part, making way for the woman. Lexa could feel her warriors hesitate on the battlefield, worried of this titan’s emergence.

            “Do not fear Wanheda!” Lexa shouted, offended that her presence alone wasn’t enough to stop the fear Wanheda placed in her warriors’ hearts. “I am here to destroy her! Fear not! Worry about the others, like you have triumphed already. Wanheda is mine!”

            The Grounders cheered in this brief heart lifting encouragement.

            Lexa saw her. Swords were swinging still, the battle never stopped, but Wanheda simply walked forward to the front lines, sword drawn. She was ethereal.

            The Commander wouldn’t let her hurt her people. She must distract Wanheda while her warriors thinned the Skaikru pawns. They made eye contact and Lexa charged forward.

            Lexa swung, Clarke parried, with a ringing noise that echoed across the entire field.

            Lexa swung again, this time a low slash aimed for Wanheda’s core. Clarke’s quickly held her sword vertically to parry once again, but took a step back, which caught Lexa’s eye. The Commander had the aggressive upper hand. If she kept up, Wanheda would keep slowly retreating back into her lines. The Skaikru hero made a side step and used both hands to take a swing at Lexa’s ribs. A direct hit.

            Lexa cried out in pain as a sharpness throbbed through her side like multiple surges of electricity. Maybe Wanheda was a threat after all. But Lexa was probably going easy on her, because the Commander was an expert at dual weapons. Unsheathing her second blade, Lexa unleashed a swift series of attacks, keeping Wanheda on her toes. The girl even groaned at a couple hits, overwhelmed by the master swordswoman. And Wanheda couldn’t keep up, everyone could tell. Some Skaikru even tried to interfere to aid their hero, but were taken down by any Grounder close to the epic spectacle. A modern Hector and Achilles- but who was which? The victor would reveal it soon enough.

            Wanheda swung with deep energy, using her blade to knock a sword away from the Commander’s grasp. It was now even again- one sword versus one sword. Wanheda was proud of herself, a small surprised smile creasing on her lips. But this duel was taking too long, and Lexa’s heart was heavy with rage and hate. With her free hand, she swung a solid punch across Wanheda’s face, crashing into the corner of her mouth. It was powerful enough to send the young warrior to the ground. Lexa’s vision was going haywire with what she thought was rage and kneeling down too fast as she straddled the fallen Wanheda and placed her hands around the girl’s throat. The battle was coming to a halt, everyone watching Heda Lexa end Wanheda’s life. There were chanting and cries of defeat everywhere.

She was planning on stabbing the girl over and over with her dagger, but her hate wanted more. She squeezed on the girl’s throat, Wanheda weakly reaching up, attempting to pull Lexa’s hands away, but couldn’t, they just meekly caressed. This was for Anya. For Gustus! For all those she lost by Wanheda’s own hands! Wanheda began to choke, and Lexa watched blood seep into her mouth from the wound her punch delivered. It had split her lip horrifically. Her blue eyes began to roll back into unconsciousness-

            Lexa retreated her hands, holding them up in almost a surrendering position.

            Blue.

            The colors began to bleed all around the Commander. Green grass, dark brown earth mixed in with crimson blood, yet the sky remained grey. Realization took hold of the Commander, immediately followed by regret and shame. Her soulmate laid on the ground, not moving. Her arms lifelessly on each side of her, her chin tilted upwards to the sky, and her hair! Such golden strands tussled about from their vigorous battle.

            Lexa reached forward to the girl, shaken with fear.

            “Wake up!” Lexa cried, grabbing the collars of Clarke’s armored tunic. She shook the girl’s limp body aggressively. “Wake up! Come back!”

            Everyone watched, completely confused by the scene. Wouldn’t Heda be excited to have put an end to her nemesis?

            “Retreat!” came the voice of a Skaikru general in the distance. “Leave the corpse of Wanheda!”

            Tears began to brim in Lexa’s eyes and her voice croaked, as she still shook the body of Wanheda, but weakly. “Wake up … Clarke…”         


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It ended up more g-rated and fluffy than I expected, but I still think it's a necessary ending lol

            Clarke never woke up from Lexa’s desperate shaking, but one press of the ear to the heart revealed to the Commander that her soulmate was still a part of this world, so she ordered for  Wanheda to taken into protective custody. She wanted her nemesis brought to full health. While it confused her medical team, they did not dare question the vividly distraught Heda.

            She had be summoned to the tent that held the wounded enemy a couple hours after the end of the battle, word was that Wanheda had risen. Lexa made her way as fast as she could, but by the time she arrived, Wanheda was asleep like the Commander had seen her before. Turns out Wanheda had awoke with the panic of the battle, immediately attacking her caretakers before assessing her environment. The nursing staff had sedated her with strong tonics. One caretaker almost lost his finger when he pressed the tonic vials to Wanheda’s mouth. As Lexa looked at her subdued soulmate she could see the bruises of her grip color Clarke’s throat. The Commander did nothing about the tear that rolled down her cheek in shame.

            She visited her soulmate every day, especially now that they had begun their travel back to Polis, but each time she arrived, Clarke was asleep once more. According to her staff, Clarke was rabid, and if their Heda truly wanted her healed Wanheda needed to be kept from stressing, as her sword wounds could become infested from stress-induced fevers.

            Lexa was defeated spiritually. She had fatally wounded her soulmate, and now her soulmate had to suffer through the healing processes of these injuries. The colors in the world brought her no happiness, just a constant reminder of what got her them. She dreamt about it- her hands around Clarke’s throat, hearing her grasp for breath, feeling her legs kick around in the dirt, seeing her haunting blue eyes flutter in unconsciousness. She wondered when Clarke saw her colors, or if they even registered as she weakly tried to fight off death.

            They had been in Polis for only three days, and no one from Skaikru had come to claim Wanheda, no one except-

            “Heda,” interrupted a guard at the threshold of Lexa’s chambers. Lexa turned around, not speaking a word, expecting him to finish. “Wanheda… she is awake… and passive.”

            Lexa’s heart fluttered in fear and hope, having a small glimmer of faith in a somewhat positive interaction with Clarke. She walked quickly down the many halls beside her guard before they came to a door that was known to be the entrance to the infirmary in Lexa’s tower.

            As Lexa walked through, she past all the patients whose morale was boosted at the sight of her, but there was only one patient she wanted to see.

            Propped up in a secluded corner of the infirmary wing was Wanheda, staring out the window by her bed.

            “Clarke,” spoke up a nervous Lexa, who shooed her guards away.

            Clarke turned her gaze from the window to look at the Commander standing at her bedside. Lexa couldn’t read her face, but thought that the guard’s use of the word passive was appropriate.

            “Are you the reason I can see?” Clarke asked, going straight for the elephant in the room.

            Lexa’s voice croaked a bit in response.

            “I thought that maybe it had been one of the nurses who touched me, but then I kept remembering what happened. What you did to me.”

            “I am so sorry, Clarke, you must understand, I had no idea we were meant to be. I just… I hated you so much, I wanted you gone for my people. I’m sure you felt the same way about me.”

            “Actually, no, that I’m sure is just you,” Clarke said, a bit of anger flaring in her calm tone. “I never hated you, or any of you. I’m not a warrior, I just happen to be good at it. Good and exploited. You fight the way you do because you want to kill.”

            Lexa remained quiet, not entirely agreeing, but knew that Clarke needed the floor right now.

            “How long did it take for you to notice your colors?”

            “As you began to pass out,” Lexa admitted, “However, I think that they were arriving when I hit you in your face. My vision felt like it was becoming static-like, and I just associated it to battle fervor. When I saw your eyes is when I noticed.”

            This caught Clarke’s attention. “I have yet to see a mirror. What are the color of my eyes?”

            “Blue,” Lexa said quietly. “Would you like a mirror?”

            Clarke said nothing, but stared back at the Commander until Lexa rummaged through a caretaker’s satchel at the foot of the bed. “Here,” she said, handing over the tool.

            Clarke grabbed it cautiously, making sure their fingers never brushed against each other. She looked at herself in the mirror quietly, yet Lexa could see the mystic wonder in her clear blue eyes. Clarke’s fingertips brushed her slightly pink cheeks, her light rosy lips, and then down to her neck, where the sickly green and yellow hues of her bruise were still present. At this, Clarke pursed her lips in disapproval, and put down the mirror.

            “I’m sorry about that. About all of this. I didn’t know. I just wanted this all to be over, surely you have to understand that,” Lexa pleaded gently.

            “Of course I do,” Clarke sighed. “We all want this to be over. All us pawns anyway. If you had known before, would you have…”

            “I have been thinking about the failed peace treaty,” Lexa answered in reminiscence. “About how you wanted to shake my hand. It tortures me to know that I could have found out so much sooner. What life would have been like, what this war would have been like, if we had just touched in that moment.” Clarke watched Lexa honestly share her thoughts, not budging her from bed. “And no, Clarke, if I had known before, I would have never laid a hand on you. I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.”

            “How long have I been out?”

            “Five days today, you have only been in Polis for three.”

            “And do my people think…”

            “They believe you are dead.”

            “And no one has come to claim my remains? They knew you took me, right?”

            “They knew,” Lexa revealed, “No one has come. No one except one Skaikru woman. She claims to be your mother. Is Abby Griffin correct?”

            Clarke’s jaw gritted in an attempt to stay emotionally stable, but heavy tears dropped from eyes. “I would like to expect such from my mother,” Clarke muttered, still fighting the sobs building in her chest. “But no one else?”

            “No.”

            “And what have you told my mother?”

            “Nothing. I… I wanted you to know she was here for you first. She arrives with a horse and cart every day at noon with a white flag and shouts at the gate that she is only here for your remains. I didn’t want to tell her you were alive just yet because I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it.”

            “You didn’t think of telling her that I was in the infirmary?”

            “I didn’t want her to get agitated and do something violent, or instigate Skaikru more. I wanted to heal you and… give you the option to go home or stay here…”

            “What makes you think I would want to stay here?” Clarke asked, her voice rising. “Because we’re soulmates I’m just going to forget the fact that you almost killed me- not just for duty, but also because you _hate_ me?”

            “I am so sorry for my hatred, believe me when I say it no longer exists in my heart. I have nothing but remorse and shame,” Lexa spoke, trying to stay humble, but couldn’t fight the feelings of heartbreak surfacing in her soul. “I understand, I have lost you. I accept the consequences. Let me… let me escort you to your mother when she arrives?”

            “Please.”

            Lexa left the infirmary as soon as Clarke made it known she would not talk to her anymore. She waited on the Polis balcony to see Abby Griffin arrive with her cart and horse, waving her flag of white. When the sad woman arrived, on cue at noon, Lexa made her way to the infirmary, walked beside Clarke, and made it to the gates, which were raised up at Lexa’s command.

            Abby stood frozen in disbelief as Clarke walked through the gates.

            “Clarke?” Her voice trembled and she stretched her arms out as Clarke ran into them. Lexa stood by the gate and watched as the legendary Wanheda heavily cried in the arms of her mother. “You’re alive?” Abby asked in disbelief, holding her miracle in her hands as they pulled away.

            “Yes,” Clarke sniffled, “Lexa, the Commander, brought me back to health.”

            “But why? What’s happening? Is this a political trade off or something?”

            “No… she… she stopped trying to kill me when, uh, when she saw colors…”

            Abby searched Clarke’s face as she quickly put things together. “You and her? You-”

            After thinking about it so much, I knew I was seeing things when she was, when she was strangling me, but I couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t register the change. All I wanted to do was survive and get her off me, but she was too strong. She panicked when the colors started to click. After that, she’s done nothing but care for me.”

            Abby looked over Clarke’s shoulder to inspect the Commander who watched from the gate. “She’s letting you come home after knowing who you are to each other?”

            “I told her I didn’t want to stay, I don’t want to be with someone who hurt me the way she did.”    

            Abby nodded in understanding, “Come, let’s go back home.”

 

            Weeks went by and Lexa became curious as to why the resurgence of Wanheda wasn’t all over the Skaikru intel. Had Clarke not made it home with her mother? Did something happen to them? The war had dissipated, with Skaikru unofficially surrendering. No battles or attacks had happened since the “death” of Wanheda. Her advisors had told Lexa that perhaps it was just a small bought of stalemate and that Skaikru would never truly give up. But Lexa was simply just a ghost of herself, her well-loved vigor absent from war councils and court. All her duties as Heda were still fulfilled as required by her, but spirit were not put into them. She missed Clarke. She missed the chance to have her true love in her life, all because she thought hate was the best way through this war. Members of the court tried to motivate their Heda, sending her gifts of spiced wine, prized salted meats, visits from acclaimed poets and musicians, even invitations to sexual comfort- all of which Lexa politely turned down.

            One day, someone knocked on her door, and Lexa assumed it was another attempt to cheer her up from someone in her court, and when she opened the door, she was met with the sight of her soulmate.

            Clarke Griffin was disguised as best she could as one of Lexa’s own.

            “Don’t let anyone know,” was the first thing she said. “Please let me in before people start to find out.”

            Lexa opened the door to her chambers wide, and Clarke speedily walked in.

            “Why are you here?” Lexa asked in disbelief as she closed the door.

            “I have forgiven you,” Clarke began. “I was living in the woods with my mom for a while, we never made it back to Arkadia. We talked a lot about it, and… she thought it was best that I didn’t go back home. If I did, it would only fuel Skaikru more. Not to avenge me, but to just further whatever agenda they keep all to themselves. I don’t want to be a tool in someone else’s project anymore. I thought to follow my own life for once.”

            Lexa was quiet, not wanting to spoil the moment, hoping that this was going where she wanted it to.

            “I can’t promise that this relationship… our relationship, will start off wonderfully, but I thought I owed it to myself to live something that was meant for me. Us. I…”

            “It doesn’t have to start like a fairy tale,” Lexa said, hoping her words would continue Clarke on. “I’m just happy you’re here. Thank you for giving me a chance. Thank you for forgiving me.”

            Lexa reached for Clarke’s hand cautiously and held it gently.

            Clarke let herself be touched and leaned closer to Lexa’s body, creating a soft embrace, her arms going around Lexa’s waist. “If it doesn’t work out… I can just… just go home.”

            “It will, Clarke, it will.” Leaning over, Lexa pressed her lips against Clarke’s in a kiss that healed both their broken hearts.    


End file.
